Caught In the Woods
by afullmargin
Summary: Pre-slash. The sheriff finds Argent beaten and bloody.


**Rating**: Teen

**Notes**: First time in this fandom! And the first time writing pre-slash in a while.

**Prompt**: fullmoon-ficlet - Bruises

**Warnings**: Violence

**Disclaimer**: This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.

**Written**: 2/2013

* * *

Things had reached a fever pitch as the full moon drew near – Victoria was gone and Allison was taking her role as matriarch as well as he'd expected she would. At least she hadn't followed him when he once more took the woods with his team – there were things she didn't need to see yet.

The baying of wolves hadn't alerted them this time, and somehow whatever – whoever – was playing cat and mouse got the drop on him first. It went for the eyes, a tight fist and not claws blinding him with a powerful blow across the bridge of his nose. He fought back, driving it against a tree and returning each strong punch to his sides and chest. A Beta, he thought as the scent of blood and dizziness began to overtake him, it had to be one of the new pack that didn't yet have the stomach to kill until the wolf took over. Hale would have killed him, he doesn't doubt it. "You shouldn't have come here," a voice growled against his ear, his brain fuzzy and unable to even place it.

When he woke, he was first aware of unexpected warmth and then a voice he'd heard before but couldn't place saying; "I need backup, victim transport – looks like he's been in a hell of a fight but the closest ambulance is a hell of a lot further. Yeah, he's breathing all right, but he'll need a few stitches once he comes around."

"No…" Chris groaned, managing his eyes half open through the ache of bruising to come. "it's fine… 'm alright."

"You're not alright, Mister Argent. Looks like someone turned you into their personal punching bag." A bright light shone in Chris' eyes and he winced, closing them again. "I don't think you've been out long, got an anonymous tip shots were fired and found you out here with a gun."

Chris moved his arms experimentally, a little surprised when the Sheriff held out a strong hand to help him sit. "I don't need a hospital." He muttered, forcing his eyes open as best he could to see the man looking down at him. His team was gone, they'd been trained well – if one of them falls, take what you can and get out before things get complicated… even his truck was gone. "Can I get a ride home?"

The sheriff huffed, almost a laugh – were it under different circumstances. In the end, he drove the man home and compromised by staying behind in the Argent's kitchen and suturing the wound across his nose himself. "You get in a lot fights?" He asked without a hint of hesitation as the other man stripped off his bloody shirt, exposing toned muscles and more old scars than he'd seen in a long time interlaced with new, round bruises forming and others that looked maybe a week old.

"Sure," Chris replied, not entirely a lie but lacking significant truth. "I'm a very physical man," he swallowed hard, easily adjusting to closeness most men would find uncomfortable as the sheriff wiped the blood off of his face and let the ruined washcloth linger; "kickboxing, martial arts, hunting. I thought I heard one of those wolves everyone's talking about."

"I guess the wolf kicked your ass and stole your car?"

Unexpectedly, Chris smiled – his lower lip tearing open fresh to spread the copper taste across his tongue. "Allison, my daughter, has the car. I told her to meet me at a friend's house later."

"This friend have a name?" The sheriff's hand twitched and he pulled away the cloth, looking at it with an almost awkward glance before dropping it on the counter beside the small bowl of bloody water.

Chris watched him for a long moment, catching the subtle movement of eyes once more across his bare chest – eyes of concern and something else he hadn't seen in a long time. He shifted forward, closing the short distance between them and letting the man's fingertips touch one of the new marks – the gentle caress almost cold against the inflamed skin of his tender ribs. "Yeah," he answered; "we don't need to talk about this, Sheriff."

"You want to tell me who did this to you? Nothing stolen, not even a broken bone… I might not be some big detective but I know a warning when I see one."

As a hunter, police could be a strong ally or an enemy – and he knew it was in his best interest to stay on their good side. As a man, the gentle stroke of fingers from the new bruise across an old knife wound's scar told a story far beyond their respective professions that intrigued him. "No," he answered succinctly, pulling away from the touch; no, he didn't want to go that road. Not tonight, not when his body ached and his mind wasn't on right. It'd be too easy to make things complicated. "I can handle it."

The sheriff nodded, clearly not sure if that was the case – and looking somewhat embarrassed at being caught in his wandering. "I'll leave my card…"

"And I'll call you," Chris interrupted him; "if I change my mind."

"Right," Stilinski licked his lips, letting out a nervous half-chuckle that seemed to break the tension within him. "And if you need anything, I'm uh… I'm single too." He hesitated, blushing as he came back with a panicky laugh he'd heard his own son echo a hundred times; "I mean, a single father. We have to stick together, right?"

"Of course." Chris nodded slowly, not letting himself show the wave of dizziness it caused as he guided the man toward the door. "Thanks, Sheriff."

"Any time."


End file.
